


And Everyone Thinks They're Perfect

by Carradee



Series: Stories Written in ±2005 [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Humor, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-28 05:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8433244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carradee/pseuds/Carradee
Summary: Someone decides that the members of the Jedi Council could use a little feeling help.





	1. It begins.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this in 2004–2005, which is posted over on FF.net. I never did get to writing the ending down, which I intend to remedy.
> 
> I've updated the text a bit, but I'm keeping it essentially how it was then. So that's over a decade of EU that this predates, and I was younger and less experienced when I wrote this.
> 
> Nonetheless, I still do think it fun, so I hope you enjoy it!

“What are you trying to do, run so fast you won’t be able to keep from hitting one of the Masters?”

“Shut up, Siri!” Obi-Wan snapped, but he slowed.

The two-years-younger blonde easily kept pace with him down the hall. “Nice to see Oafy knows his limits.”

“I’m not—”

Siri Tachi interrupted him with an outright laugh, her blue eyes gleaming. “No? Too bad Garen didn’t see that one.”

“Will you _stop_?” He whirled on her. “So I had a clumsy moment! You seem to be forgetting that I went out without my master’s permission and now must answer to said master if I’m not in my room waiting for him in”—he checked his chrono—“ _now_!”

He darted around the nearby corner and crashed into a crowd gathered around a message board. He apologized profusely—and, when nobody seemed to care about his lack of etiquette, politely asked what everyone was staring at.

In reply, their friend Garen Muln took his and Siri’s arms and manhandled them to the front of the group so they could read for themselves:

_Oh, Great Master—wielder of right_  
_You are as gorgeous as the night._  
_When I come before you, I feel_  
_A gaping wound, never to heal._  
_That rules might change, that all might see_  
_The extent to which I love thee._  
_No queen, in all her regalia,  
_ _Compares to Adi Gallia._

Said Jedi Master entered the hall. “What’s going on?”

Everyone timidly sidled out of her way—except for Padawan Learner Siri Tachi, who looked at her master with a mischievous grin. She nodded at the board. “Something you wanted to tell me, Master?”

Master Gallia merely glanced at the note before snatching it off the message board. “This matter has already been handled by the Council. You may disperse.”

The crowd did so reluctantly, but everyone knew better than to disobey a Councilor.

The Jedi Master’s eyes narrowed at her Padawan. “And _you_ will hold your tongue. Who removed this from the Council files?”

Siri merely shrugged. “What are you asking me, for?”

Obi-Wan gaped.

“ _Padawan_ ,” Master Gallia said warningly. “Did _you_ steal this?”

“No, Master!”

Even Obi-Wan could see how hurt Siri was by the accusation.

After examining her Padawan for a long moment, Master Gallia headed quickly back into the Council room, passing Master Billaba. The younger Master frowned and eyed him, noticing their filthy clothes. “Where have you two been?”

“Out,” Siri replied easily at the same moment Obi-Wan said, “Sparring.”

Jedi Master Depa Billaba stepped right in front of his nose. “Sparring. Is that so, Padawan Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan nodded quickly. “Yes, Master Billaba.” He hiccuped.

The Chalactan Jedi Master glanced at each of them before waving a hand in dismissal.

As he gladly hurried back down the hall, he heard the still woman offer:

“In my experience, training sabers are the sparring weapon of choice. Not liquor bottles.”


	2. What You Never Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mmm. Breakfast. What can go wrong?

“Hurry up, Oafy!” whined Jedi Padawan Siri Tachi from outside his door. “I never knew guys took so long to get dressed!”

“You interrupted my shower!” he said defensively.

He could picture her pretending to pout. “But I’m hungry! Will we have to wait for Master Jinn, too?”

“He went with Master Rhara this morning.”

“He doesn’t eat with his own Padawan?”

Obi-Wan whirled to smack her for the jibe. Unfortunately, a door stood between them. “Ow!”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” he snapped, rubbing his hand. He stepped into the hallway and glared at Siri. “For your information, today would have been Master Tahl’s birthday.”

Siri glanced away. “Friends mourning friends, huh? Let’s go stay outta their hair—”

“They aren’t here.”

“Well, go get breakfast, at least.”

He gave her an odd look. “You really are hungry, aren’t you?”

“We missed dinner last night, Oaf.”

Obi-Wan sighed. After his slip-up in the bar, she wasn’t going to let that one drop for a long time. A sly twist came to his lips. “ _You_ missed dinner, you mean.”

Siri whirled on him. “ _What_?! You were so panicked over being late and Master Jinn _still_ gave you dinner?”*

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My master got in late, too.”

He kept a straight face under his younger friend’s scrutiny. She huffed and hurried towards the cafeteria. Obi-Wan grinned and followed.

They got to the cafeteria in time to see a small crowd gathered around one table—and his master, on the edge of the group, stumbled and nearly fell.

“ _Master_!” He darted forward and caught his master’s arm, supporting him. “What’s wrong?”

Master Qui-Gon Jinn gave him an odd look, smirking. His face still red and chest still shaking, he Force-called something to his hands. Siri grabbed for it, but he didn’t let her get it. The Jedi Master handed it to his Padawan over the blonde’s head.

Blue eyes flashing, Siri demanded, “Let me see it!”

Only then did Obi-Wan notice that most of the others in the cafeteria were in a comparable state to his master, as if struggling not to laugh.

He frowned at the item he held, confused. What could be so amusing about a slipper from Calamaran ballet?

Then he noticed the embroidered inscription.

_Siri Tachi_

Obi-Wan innocently offered them to Siri. “Were you missing these?”

“ _What_?!” She tore them from him and found her name. She turned beet red. “ _What the Sith_ —”

“Tachi,” Master Billaba reprimanded.

Siri’s rough treatment caused a note to fall out of one slipper.

Obi-Wan bent down and picked it up.

_And you thought her footwork came from gymnastics._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Food is a _necessity_ , not something that should be denied so cavalierly, without being so much as offered—and refusal of it certainly should not be so casually accepted by a teenager and their friends. It's inappropriate and potentially abusive, on multiple fronts. (The justification and attitude about it in the story indicate it's more frequent than it should be, and "Make it, yourself," would be a more appropriate reaction to a teenager getting home late—assuming the teenager had the capability to be home on time, which not all authority figures account for.)
> 
> Abusive or inappropriate behaviors aren't necessarily malicious, but it's a difference in attitude. One stems from ignorance and seeking to do the right thing; the other stems from a sense of entitlement/control and a need to do the right thing. If you know what you're looking at (or for), there are visible differences.


	3. And You Thought the Ballet Slippers Were Insulting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So let's try again for a _peaceful_ breakfast…

The next morning, Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi got himself to the cafeteria by himself—without any crowds or jokes or anything. And Siri glared at him.

“Good morning, Ballerina.” Grinning, Obi-Wan slid into the seat across from her, dodging her responding slap.

“I do _not_ do ballet!”

“Where’d the slippers come from, then?”

“By the Force, I _don’t know_!”

“Tachi, really,” murmured Master Billaba, seated several places down.

“Easy for you to say!” Siri retorted. “ _You_ don’t have people thinking you’re something you definitely are _not_!”

Chalactan Jedi Master and junior Council Member Depa Billaba looked at her sedately. “Everyone has fictions which others commonly believe of them.”

“So what are yours?” Siri challenged.

Obi-Wan winced. Other knights and masters were noticing this, and someone would certainly tell Master Gallia.

Master Billaba didn’t flinch. “If I told you, they wouldn’t be ‘commonly believed fictions’.”

He frowned. “Don’t you mean, ‘If I _could tell_ you’?”

She turned her imperturbable observation on him. “Of course,” she responded—well, graciously, he supposed...

Siri Tachi regained her voice. “At least _you_ don’t have little kids laughing at you!”

“No,” Master Billaba quietly agreed. “Merely yelling.”

As far as Obi-Wan knew, only one person outside their circle of friends had dared laugh at Siri directly. “A’Sharad hardly counts as a ‘little kid’, Siri.”

“ ‘ _Hardly_? He’s like two blasted years younger than me and he ‘ _hardly counts_?!”

An oversized Jawa joined their table.

“Good morning,” Obi-Wan said politely, wondering where the Jawa had come from, and wondering how it had gotten so big.

“Have you seen my Master?” the creature asked.

Padawan Kenobi froze. There weren’t any Jawa Padawans that he knew of... “Who’s your Master?”

“Master Ki,” the Padawan said, frustration in his voice.

A voice Obi-Wan finally recognized. “ _A’Sharad_?!” He laughed in disbelief. “What happened to you?”

“Someone stole my tunic.” The Tusken Raider struggled not to growl. “This is all that was in my closet this morning.”

“You, too?” Siri asked. “What the Force is the Sithspitting culprit up to?”

“Siri—”

“Shut _up_ , Oafy! You’re too politic.”

His jaw dropped. “ _Me_? Politic? What about your own master, ‘little girl’?”

Before Obi-Wan knew it, he’d fallen into a full-fledged argument with his peer Siri Tachi.

Sidelong, he saw Master Billaba slowly shake her head and leave.


	4. He Isn't Dead Yet, You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Council proves they aren't entirely stupid.

“Will you stop tapping your foot?”

“Will you stop acting so blasted calm?” Siri hissed back. “We’ve _both_ been called before the Council, for Force sakes.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I’m sure the reason for it will be revealed shortly.”

Her crystal blue eyes glared at him from the slit between her eyelids. “And how do you plan on defending our ‘outing’, _Oaf_?”

He blinked. He made the connection. He groaned. “Oh, no...”

“I bet Master Billaba was a dull Padawan.”

Obi-Wan privately shared the sentiment. “Why would she wait so long before reporting, though?”

“Our fight yesterday morning?” Siri offered, with a shrug. “She seemed none too pleased with that.”

So Siri’d noticed the Master’s displeasure, too. “Maybe—”

The Council aide entered and bowed. They stood and bowed in return. “The Council will see you now.”

Sharing a glance, they entered.

“Padawan Kenobi. Padawan Tachi,” Master Mace Windu said in greeting.

Master Yoda _harrumph_ ed and padded over to them. “There when found, the letter was, were you?”

Obi-Wan shot a frown at Siri. “We saw it, yes...”

“And the ballet slippers?”

Siri Tachi straightened and faced her Master. “Yes, Master!”

“And A’Sharad?”

Obi-Wan winced, recalling his laugh, and bowed to the speaker. “Yes, Master Ki.”

“Seen who might have done these things, have you?” Master Yoda eyed them closely.

The two Padawans glanced at each other. Siri scowled.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

Master Yoda sighed heavily. “Dismissed, you are. If see my gimer stick you do, inform the Council you will.”

Padawan Kenobi blinked, realizing only know that the renowned Master lacked his walking stick. Siri gripped his elbow, reminding him of their dismissal.

* * *

“Padawan Kenobi.”

He jumped, startled by the unexpected voice in the Temple’s silent library. “Master Billaba!”

“Looking for something?”

“Oh—I—”

“Padawan Tachi is not a ballerina, if that is the personnel file you seek.”

Blood rushed to his ears. “I—”

“Never thought as much. Of course. I am pulling a file on Naboo royal face paints for the Younglings. However, it seems to have been misplaced. Would you assist me in finding it?”

Obi-Wan was hearing the most words out of this Master’s mouth that he ever had in one sitting. “Yes, Master?”

She waved at a shelf of books deep within the aisles. “It is somewhere in this section.”

“Of course!” He went around to the other side.

Obi-Wan stopped short. “Master Billaba!”

“Padawan Kenobi?” She joined him.

There, buried in the Temple library, was Master Yoda’s gimer stick on a pedestal. He moved closer to read the engraved plaque.

_Ancient Artifact_


	5. Who Was a Dull Padawan, Again?

“Uh... Siri?”

She grinned, batting her eyelids at him. “Drink your ale, Oaf.”

He took another sip, watching the contents of his fellow Padawan’s glass vanish. “Are you sure Master Gallia won’t notice the alcohol on your breath?”

She raised her eyebrows. “After my special blend of mouthwash, breath mints, garlic cloves, and caff grounds? I doubt it.”

Obi-Wan tried not to glance at the concoction sitting behind Siri’s far elbow. She’d brought it and the Corellian ale with her to his and his Master’s suite in the wee hours of the morning. He glanced over at the nearby sink. It felt odd, not seeing the usual teacup waiting for washing...

“Jedi Council to Oafy-Wan. Your Master is not the first to go on a solo mission without his Padawan, over.”

“Copy, Ballerina. Doesn’t keep me from missing him, over.”

She glowered at him.

He smirked and raised his glass. “Do I want to know where you got this?”

Padawan Siri Tachi sighed dramatically. “I found it with a love letter by my door. So _romantic_...”

He snorted.

Her lips quirked. “I told Garen he could shove the letter down the ’fresher.”

Obi-Wan choked. “ _Garen_?!”

“Yep.” Her blue eyes didn’t leave him as she gulped some more ale.

She’d already had far more alcohol than him, and she hardly seemed affected. He had no idea where she put it—she didn’t even reach the floor from Master Qui-Gon’s stool.

“He said finding Padawan Pavan’s letter to my Master gave him the courage to try me—no matter that the Council quietly disciplined and buried the issue weeks before someone had the gall to make the matter public.” Her disgust tinged her voice, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

Obi-Wan frowned thoughtfully. “Who would be stupid enough to hack into the Temple archives?”

“Garen,” Siri replied immediately.

“I didn’t say _drunk_ enough—”

The door rang.

The Padawans jumped, startled.

“Thought Qui-Gon’s mission hadn’t ended yet!” Siri whispered.

“It hasn’t,” a bewildered Obi-Wan murmured back. Who would be out at this hour?

The blonde hurried to hide their activity while he left the kitchen and headed to the main room to answer the door. He stood before the doorway as he opened it. “Y—”

Master Billaba nudged him aside and strode in. She stopped in the middle of the main room, arms crossed. “Padawan Kenobi. Padawan Tachi.”

An awkward silence ensued.

“...Sporting a new look?” offered Siri.

The Council member’s lips twitched downward. “Not intentionally.”

Obi-Wan eyed her apparel and grimaced. Pitch black wasn’t unheard-of for Jedi to wear, but... Well, their—er—fit and their wearer’s fatal lightsaber ability... Brought to mind an old Sith-witch horror story.

He swallowed. “I take it you’ve experienced a similar situation as Padawan A’Sharad.”

She inclined her head and turned to Siri. “I heard you managed Padawan Muln’s ill-placed interest.”

Biting her lip, Siri glanced back at the kitchen. “Yes, Master.”

“Was there really Corellian ale involved or have you already disposed of it?”

The blonde blinked in surprise at the brunette Jedi Master. “Master?”

“I wouldn’t mind some, myself.” She lowered herself to the couch.

Siri and Obi-Wan exchanged bewildered looks.

After a few seconds, Siri went ahead and brought the older woman a glass of ale.

Master Billaba sniffed and sipped it carefully. She shrugged. “Not bad, but I’ve had better.” She frowned at them, continuing her small sips. “Serve yourselves. I wouldn’t ask for some if I minded you two drinking. You’re old enough for most worlds.”

Siri wasted no time in obeying, shoving more ale at Obi-Wan.

Again, Master Billaba’s lips twitched. “And you brought the gift to share with Padawan Kenobi. Is there a connection?”

Obi-Wan coughed.

Siri froze, an irritated smile plastered on her face. “I’m sorry?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “You Padawans are more responsible than most Knights I associate with.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Jedi Master Depa Billaba smiled slightly. “You heard me correctly, Padawan Kenobi.” She finished off her half-glass of Corellian ale in one swig without flinching. “My best friends are consistently drunk.”

Her glass in hand, she waved at them. “Come to my place. I shall make you two acquainted with _good_ alcohol.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal drinking age does vary quite a bit from country to country. I assume planets would have the same issues, and the Jedi Order in general would officially follow the max age through the galaxy, while individuals would quietly go with usual age or Coruscant age or age for wherever they were stationed at the moment.


	6. Anybody Want a Parrot?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the pranks reach the Council chamber itself.

“What does the Council want us for, this time?”

“Good question, Ballerina.” He grabbed her wrist to halt her slap. “Did Master Billaba really take us to her room for liquor, last night?”

Siri’s eyes brightened. “Rodian Yellow Plagues. I’d love to shove _that_ down Luminara’s throat, next birthday.”

“And leave none for me?” Obi-Wan asked in mock-horror.

She punched his arm. “Shut up, Oaf.”

The Council aide came out. “The Council will see you, now.”

The Padawans exchanged smiles and entered the Council chambers.

Immediately, Obi-Wan registered a missing face—no, two…

Master Billaba glided in after them and paused at her chair to bow before sitting. “Forgive my lateness, Masters.”

He noticed several of the Masters pale slightly or shift positions. He’d found Master Billaba’s dark clothing disturbing last night, but daylight made it all the more so.

The pitch-black sleeveless blouse clung to her frame. The hip-hugging trousers looked even more alien on the Jedi Master who was well known for her demure practice of her native people’s religion.

Obi-Wan blinked. Well, he supposed the prankster could have chosen worse…

“What is the matter?” Master Billaba asked quietly.

Master Windu cleared his throat. “Take your seat, Depa. Has anyone seen Master Even?”

Already settling into her chair, Jedi Master Depa Billaba looked up. “He comes.”

The Council door opened, and small Master Piell scurried in and narrowed his one eye at the stares. “What?”

Siri glanced at Obi-Wan. “So that’s what, three replaced tunics, now?”

He coughed as he nodded. Jedi Master Even Piell was decked out in fantasy pirate’s garb.

“Master Even,” greeted Master Yoda. “Missing, your tunic is?”

“Yes, Master,” snorted Master Piell.

Master Billaba spoke up. “…Did the culprit leave anything else we may identify him by?”

Another snort. “A cap, of course; but I wasn’t going to wear that.”

The Chalactan glanced down at her own uncharacteristic clothing. “Odd…”

Master Windu looked at her. “Depa?”

“The culprit chose him for the role, but left out a standard aspect of the costume… Or has Master Even preferred to not mention it?” she asked politely.

Master Even Piell glared. “Back off!”

“Master Even?”

At Jedi Master Yoda’s inquiry, Master Piell grunted. “Fine. What else did the culprit leave me?” He let himself fall hard into his seat. “An eye patch.”


	7. Observation Is a Good Thing

“You know, the food is one thing I never miss when I’m on missions,” Siri said.

Obi-Wan smiled as an Initiate server apologetically slopped mush on his plate. “Agreed.”

Siri tossed her head to get her blond bangs out of her eyes. “I mean, seriously. Everybody can negotiate treaties, rescue hostages, protect politicians, and they can’t even make a good waffle.”

A woman’s slim iron fingers slipped on his shoulder. He glanced back to find Master Billaba holding Siri, as well. Her standard Jedi Master expression didn’t waver. “Come.”

She released them swiftly glided out of the cafeteria.

Sharing a glance, they followed her…all the way to a practice room. They paused at the entrance, though Master Billaba had gone right on in.

“Depa,” Master Windu said.

“Mace,” Master Billa said warmly.

The two Padawans blinked and entered the practice room.

They froze. Master Windu was _hugging_ Master Billaba?

Jedi Master Mace Windu noted them. “What’s this, Depa?”

She respectfully nodded her head. “I thought they might like a show of _vapaad_.”

The senior Council Member’s mien grew suspicious. “Depa.”

“Benefit,” she replied in mock defense. “They’re fine students.”

“Halcyon isn’t visiting, is he?”

“Nejaa?” was Master Billaba’s innocent question. “I haven’t seen him in years.”

Siri and Obi-Wan looked at each other. They knew she’d been Master Windu’s student, but something seemed off, here...

“And Thule’s still mad at me for chopping up the place.” After that final addition, Depa Billaba ignited her blade. “Now shall we spar? I fear I’m getting a little rusty.”

Both Padawans took a step back. The smile she wore was not the gentle, quiet Master Billaba they’d known most their lives.

With a resigned glance, Master Windu Force-pulled his hilt from his belt and activated it.

Everyone froze. Instead of purple, a crimson blade came from the end.

Frowning, Mace Windu tested his lightsaber. He took a deep breath before calmly asking, “Depa, where did you get synthesized crystals? You haven’t any Sith friends, have you?”

“Mace!” She stared at him.

He sighed. “Forgive me. I keep forgetting you’re not a child...”

“Anymore.”

“What?” He turned in midstep from the door.

“I’m not a child _anymore_ , Mace.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

When he left, the Padawans turned to the remaining Master. “Why did he accuse you?” asked Obi-Wan.

Master Billaba smiled faintly. “I was young, once.” She eyed her lightsaber, and her expression returned to its common blank one.

“Council records, top Masters...” Siri scowled. “Some Council Member’s gotta be doing this!”

Obi-Wan blinked. “That explains it!” He turned to Master Billaba. She was the most attuned to the other Council members. “But who’d be likely to do this?”

Thoughtfulness tinged her visage. “Master Yoda has a good sense of humor.”

“He does?”

“So, say it’s Master Yoda,” Siri carried forth immediately, ignoring his question. “Why would he take his own gimer stick?”

“Avoids suspicion. No one ever expects the prankster to be the one pranked upon.”

“You’re right!” Siri darted for the door. “I’ve gotta tell my Master!”

“I’ll find Master Yaddle—she should be able to find out... She’s his species!” He hesitated. “Unless, of course, she’s helping... But then the culprits will know we’re onto them!”

As the door shut behind Obi-Wan, he heard Master Billaba disinterestedly comment, “So they will.”


	8. Jingle Bells

“So…” Siri caught up to him in the hall. “Did you tell Master Yaddle?”

Obi-Wan avoided her gaze. “She laughed at me.”

Padawan Siri Tachi shrugged and gave Kenobi a comforting pat on the back. “My Master scolded me with some of the more colorful language I thought only I picked up on missions. Said I was being a disrespectful—”

She caught herself and blushed. “Um…”

He stopped at one window overlooking Coruscant’s streets. “Do you think they’re doing it to themselves?”

The blonde coughed back a laugh. “And toying with some Padawans about a specific person doing it? I think that would be a little much, even for Master Halcyon.”

Obi-Wan snorted. They all knew the rumors about Jedi Knight Nejaa Halcyon. “I doubt th…”

A reflection in the window caught both of the Padawans’ attention. The glanced at each other and turned around.

A sour-faced Master Yaddle waddled down the hall, her normally golden brown hair crimson. It looked odd, on her hale olive green skin.

Actually, it sort of complemented it.

Siri snickered, and Obi-Wan had to cough horrendously to avoid doing the same. “Oh, my!” He gasped. “Pardon, Master!”

“Good morning, Master Yaddle!” called Master Ki-Adi-Mundi. Obi-Wan saw Master Billaba beside him, attentive to her fellow Master.

Yaddle snorted and continued down the hall to the Council chambers.


	9. Bored and Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ENOUGH already.

Obi-Wan and Siri both sat crosslegged in the main room of the quarters he usually shared with Qui-Gon.

“I don’t get it,” Obi-Wan said. “More than half the Council or their Padawans have been pranked, and we have _no idea_ who’s doing it.”

Siri rubbed her forehead as she thought, then froze. “Obi-Wan.”

“Yes?”

She swallowed. “Okay, correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t this entire thing scream ‘learning exercise’? Like, pay attention to the details, not what’s in front of your face?”

He blinked. “You think they’re testing us? That…actually _does_ make more sense…”

Siri got up and headed for the door.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I’m done getting run around,” she answered. “If they wanted to put us through a learning exercise, they should’ve told us or kept it private, not included me in the pranks.”

Obi-Wan realized _he_ hadn’t been pranked and eyed her suspiciously and the same moment she seemed to realize the same thing and wonder…

“Nah,” they agreed at they same moment. Neither of them was behind the pranking.

Neither of them waited for an appointment, either, instead ignoring the Padawan on Council duty and walking into the chambers. Between Siri’s Master being on the Council, herself, and Obi-Wan’s Master having a precedent of doing that sort of thing, the Councilors didn’t seem all that surprised by their behavior.

(Siri went first. Obi-Wan wasn’t about to let her do it _alone_. Besides, his Master had just returned and was headed to the Council chambers now.)

“Something to tell us, have you?” Master Yoda asked.

“Yes, Masters,” Siri said, taking the traditional position of someone giving a primary report. “While Padawan Kenobi and I appreciate the lesson in patience that you have assigned us, this has gotten ridiculous. Whoever’s doing the pranks has Council access, so there’s no real way for us to track down who it is. The only common denominators are that everyone pranked is either a Council member or one’s Padawan, and that we’ve encountered every prank in the presence of Master Billaba.”

Everyone looked at the Chalactan woman, who serenely sat opposite the Grand Masters in the circle.

Master Windu sighed. “Depa. You told me you weren’t doing it.”

Her lips showed only a hint of the smirk she’d shown during the off-duty drinking with the Padawans. “No, I didn’t.”

“That’s right,” Obi-Wan said slowly. “You even encouraged him to think it you. But _why_?”

She shrugged. “A little fun is good for the health.”

Master groaned and rubbed his forehead.

Master Yoda chuckled. “A good sense of balance, you have.”

“Learned from the best,” she said, just as Master Qui-Gon Jinn returned from whatever solitary mission he’d been sent on.

Obi-Wan’s Master looked clean and unhurt, at least, though the edges of his clothes were singed and faintly smelled of smoke.

He also looked from Obi-Wan’s location in the Council chamber and gave Depa a smile that was impossibly large and serene at the selfsame time. “Thank you.”

All the Council members rolled their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand that's my ending, appended to a fic I started something like 12 years ago. >_>
> 
> I can tell I'm missing a piece from the original planning, but I can't remember what that piece was, so no matter.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope it at least made you smile. :)


End file.
